The Phantom of the Opera: Erik's Thoughts
by George Smillie
Summary: A few short captions about Erik's thoughts during parts of the ALW Musical
1. I gave you my music, made your song take...

The Phantom of the Opera: Erik's Thoughts  
  
George Smillie  
  
Author's Notes: I don't own Erik, Christine, Raoul, the Managers, Carlotta etc. As you can guess, these are all scenes from Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, 'The Phantom of the Opera,' currently showing at the Majestic on Broadway and at Her Majesty's Theatre in London. Now I am sounding like a walking advert . . . on with the story!  
  
"I gave you my music . . . Made your song take wing . . . And now, how you've repaid me . . . Denied me and betrayed me . . . He was bound to love you . . . When he heard you sing . . ."  
  
Im watching them now . . . I sit here . . . hidden in the shadows of the angel sculpture. She is telling that boy everything. All my dark secrets . . . my face . . . and my obsession with her. Look at him . . . Just look at him! He waits until her defenses are down . . . and then . . . I cannot watch! They kiss, and in that kiss I can feel all my thoughts of love being ripped from my body. The boy, Raoul, feels nothing compared to me. He doesn't love her . . . I love her! When will I get to hold her? When will I get to press my lips against hers? When?! When will she realise that I love her more than the Vicomte ever can! 


	2. Floating, falling Sweet intoxication

"Floating, falling Sweet intoxication! Touch me, trust me Savour each sensation!"  
  
I am in charge now. She is in my power. The beautiful creature . . . As I sing to her of the music of the night, she reaches out to me with one of her delicate, soft hands, and brushes her palm against the mask. She takes my hand . . . and a shimmering sensation takes over my body. For a moment, I believe she will kiss me. But no. She senses my fear, and she pulls away before her lips met mine. I regain my composure and take her gently by the wrist, and lead her over to my shattered mirror, which I have hidden behind a sheet. I tear away the sheet and the life like image of her bobs up and down. She falls back in shock, and as she falls in to my arms, she utters a quiet moan. "Hush child," I mutter in to her ear. I lay her down on to a small mattress, and wrap her in a blanket. "Angel . . ." She is terribly confused now . . . "Angel . . . don't leave me." "I wont," I promise her. I give her the tiniest kiss on the cheek, and she goes to sleep . . . 


	3. Like yellow parchment is his skin, a gre...

"Like yellow parchment is his skin . . . A great black hole served as the nose that never grew . . ."  
  
Christine and I have just left the boat and stepped out on to the dock. She tells me she is cold, and I hand her my cloak which I wrap around her. She thanks me, and we head towards the trap door I installed, just behind the stage. Bravely, I take her hand, and step up towards the door. It opens with a creak, and I am rather surprised to discover that it has been barely used. After all, I should know. I built this place.  
  
The chief of the flies, Joseph Buquet, is standing on the stage, telling tales about the Opera Ghost. If only he knew a single thing about me. I was scarier than any of his stories. A death's head? He had know idea! And now he speaks of my Punjab lasso. This I do not approve of! I can not have those tiresome little ballet girls telling all my secrets! Perhaps if I am to shut him up, it shall have to be permanent! Aaah . . . he has seen my shadow now. That should make him be quiet, at least for now. And now look! The ballet mistress, Madame Giry has appeared. Sometimes she can appear much more of a ghost than I. Sleaking through the shadows like that. She certainly is . . . loud. But I do respect her. And little Meg Giry, she is very different to her mother. Energetic little child, and she knows that if I wanted to, I could command her career. That is one of the reasons she has not been so talkative about me. The ballet mistress is telling Buquet off quite a bit. I'll do a lot more than burn him Madame . . . 


End file.
